The Fighter
by DyingAtTheMoment
Summary: Max Martinez- an illegal 16-year-old fighter who lives in Arizona is also stuck in the midst of war between the states. Then, she meets the new and mysterious Fang Ride. Can she keep her secrets from him for long? What secrets does Fang have? -WARNING: This might be cliche and overused but whatever. Give it a chance please! (R&R?) James Patterson owns, not me!-DyingAtTheMoment(:D)


MY FIRST AUTHORS NOTE BE HAPPY ******\(^w^)/******

Well, hey guys it's ** DyingAtTheMoment** here to say I'm super excited to post this first chapter! I've always been a viewer here (3 years and counting!) so now that I've left my old account **(SomeoneYouKnowXOXO)** ((Check out my Divergent one-shot there :3) and gotten this one to use to write with, I've been motivated!

Okay, so **I will need at LEAST 5 reviews to continue this story**... /(;-;)\ (R&R is all I ask of you, my lovelies...)

DISCLAIMER: SADLY, I don't own anything you may recognize, and if I was James Patterson, I would be rich and probably have a pet **UniKitty** (look it up xD) writing more Max Ride and **FAX!**

So, onward to the story!

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><p>"Max, get up! You have to eat eventually!"<p>

I heard my mother, Valencia Martinez, yell to me from the kitchen of our house.I simply groaned and rolled off my make-shift bed onto the old, creaky, and cold wooden floor. I laid there and let my sleep deprived brain wander.

I ended up thinking about who I was going to be fighting tonight and if maybe, by a chance, my win streak would end tonight. I learned at a young age that fighting was my flair. I eventually had started training down at our Training Arena and I also began sparring. My trainer, who is also the manager of the Training Arena, eventually took me down to an underground fighting ring so I could try my hand in a real fight. I ended up losing to the girl, but the loss wasn't by much. Since that day, I've fought once a month for eight years and I train almost every day.

"Max, I made pancakes, so please come out?" My mother called once more.

My stomach grumbled in agreement and I called back a "Yes ma'am!" I am actually a sixteen year old with manners thank you very much. I then sighed again, rolled onto my stomach, and leapt up. I walked over to my old, beat up, black suitcase that held all of my personal belongings. I squatted down and began to rummage through the two pairs of pants, the pair of shorts, my five shirts, two hoodies, undergarments, and finally my training gloves and first aid kit. I scanned over the objects in the suitcase, finally settling on a black tank top, a short sleeved gray hoodie, and a dark, ripped pair of skinny jeans. I completed by grabbing my almost fall apart converse. I looked over what I was wearing in the single cracked mirror in my "room". I decided I could still fight in this so I was okay.

I walk out of the door-less doorway into the older hallway that vaguely smelled like old books. I turn to my right and make my way down the short hallway to the single bathroom. I flick on the switch that turns on the single bare bulb in the room and I fully walk in. I softly close the bathroom door and begin my morning routine. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and brush my hair before I stared into the mirror into my own bright brown-hazel eyes.

I snap out of my revere, open the door, and sneak my way towards the kitchen. I immediately saw my mother, dark brown hair pulled into a messy bun and she was sitting at our fold-out table sipping coffee reading the newspaper. I caught the smell of the pancakes on the stove, and my stomach gave my position away. It growled obnoxiously loud, and my mother chuckled. I felt my face heat up, and my mother said, "Go eat, you need it." I practically run my almost drooling self over to the stove where the pancakes were.

I was _starving._

Not literally, but you get what I'm saying. Out of the ten pancakes on the stove, I had grabbed eight. I lathered butter onto each one and poured a lake of syrup onto the stack. Hey, I eat more than my eighteen year old friend Iggy. I carefully maneuvered my way to the table so I wouldn't tip my stack of pancakes, then I carefully set the plate down and then I plopped down myself.

I glanced at the front of the paper my mom was reading, and the headline said, **"Newest Bomb Causes Hundreds of Fatalities"**. The thought alone caused a stone to drop in my stomach. This War Between the States has become extremely out of hand. Our State, Arizona, thankfully hasn't been bombed yet.

I can't say the same about the other State- California, that's near us. They've been bombed the most is what it seems like. The highest State, Texas, (**A/N Sorry to people in those states!**) has been the main source of the bombs. They're basically the snobby, rich people who think of Arizona as "stupid, inconsolable idiots who shouldn't be in our society because they demean us". The main thing Texas does is they just simply and utterly ignore us. They won't say our names or look at us. They want to rusticate us and they're opulent. The others States, are somewhat nicer in the "Hey we're not huge jerks like Texas" way. They usually only shoot us pitiful or hateful glances, but hey, something is better than nothing. The State closest to us, (for some strange reason) Florida, will help fly supplies, food, clothes, and other things to us to help.

We try to do the same when we can. The war between everyone is getting out of hand, everyone says it is World War 3, and since there are mutated children, like me, who are being force to be soldiers, I say to heck with it all. I hate the war and State separation thing as a whole. Alas, Arizona still needs a war leader, and our Mayor has wanted me to do it.

I'm a _freaking Avian-mutant bird kid_ who is an _ illegal_ underground fighter. I'm not even smart! There are smarter and better war leaders in my city somewhere. I've politely declined the offers, but the Mayor is quite persistent, and now I believe Arizona is starting to lose hope.

I slowly start cutting up my pancakes whilst I'm thinking. I'm like a robot; pick up food, put in mouth, chew, swallow, and repeat. I continue my pattern until I run out of pancakes. I thought I just got food? The whole time I knew I was thinking and asking myself, "What if I was war leader?" I slid the chair I was sitting in back, stood up, and proceeded to carry my empty breakfast plate to the sink where I began washing the dishes. All of the sudden I felt smaller, fragile hands rest on my shoulders.

My first instinct was to tense up, but I managed to refrain from doing so. "Max, what's wrong?" My mother's soft voice asked from behind me. I sighed and hung my head. "Mom, I might do it. What if I can save everyone?" I said. I snapped my eyes shut as I felt my mother go as still as stone. My poor, transmuted mother. Ever since my father's and younger sister's death she has gotten weaker. She doesn't eat as much, I can hear her crying all through the night, and she's always a lot more somber.

She really tries to be happy, but there's always the pain in her eyes.

*Flashback* *Six Months Previous*

"Mommy, Daddy, is we almost there yet?" Little six year-old Ella asks.

"Sweetie, the bus only goes so fast, so I don't know." My mother says sweetly.

I was sitting next to my mom and across from my father, Jeb, and my little sister, Ella. I didn't like Jeb because he was the reason I had freaking wings in the first place and the reason why I never got to tell mom and Ella. We were currently on our way to the market and trade center because we needed more clothes and we were running low on food. My father casually draped his arm across the seat behind Ella when all the sudden I heard a loud screeching noise.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

The other bus that was going to pull out came too early and smashed straight into us exactly where my "father" and where sweet, little Ella were sitting. I was thrown back against the wall behind my seat and nearly knocked into unconsciousness.

I vaguely saw where they were sitting, but the wall had collapsed over the dented and squashed metal seats. I could hear screaming, sobbing, sirens, and yelling. I brought my hand up to my head and it was sticky. I brought my hand down to my face, and my hand was coated in blood.

I sat up, fighting the stars in my eyes so I could go and try to find Ella. All I could think about was Ella and how she couldn't be dead and how we were going to make it out alive. We had to. Tears swam in my eyes and I stumbled my way over to the chairs.

I fell to my knees and landed in a puddle of blood that was coming out from under the chairs. I had started shaking uncontrollably and screaming. Everything was fazed and I was numb. My wings unfurled from my sweatshirt back and wrapped around me. Then, the pain became too much and I blacked out.

*End of Flashback* *Present Time*

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><p><strong>Authors Note!<strong>

Aye, so nothing like a little flashback into a cliff hanger! (#sorrynotsorry 'bout that... hehe...)

SO, I only got 2 REVIEWS on the first posting I had! ヾ(｡｀Д´｡)ﾉ彡 Agh peoplez if you love me, you'll review :3

| (•□•) | (❍ᴥ❍ʋ) (If you can PM or Review who that is, I give you a cookie! )

Well, I got nuthin left to say here besides ily y'all and please review to motivate me to write/post more.

**XOXO, DyingAtTheMoment**


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